


Radio Home

by Starlight713



Series: Atom Bomb Baby [9]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: A little, Domestic Fluff, Drabble, F/M, Longing, Some angst, Suggestion!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-09-22 02:52:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9579281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starlight713/pseuds/Starlight713
Summary: MacCready talks to Lola over the radio while she is away.This takes place during chapter seven (“Radio”) of “Double Trouble.” Some lovely person (*coughcough* TheWriterOfFira*coughcough*) suggested that I show Mac’s perspective on the chapter and that just sounded lovely! (Thank you!!!)





	

                “Will Grognak escape the Crystal Palace of DOOM? Find out in next week’s installation of: Grognak the Barbarian!” MacCready closed the comic and set it on the boys’ dresser. Duncan threw his arms up and flopped back onto his bed, bouncing on the springy mattress. Shaun shifted next to him, quiet as ever.

                “Wow!” Little Duncan was looking up at the ceiling in awe, like he’d never seen it before. MacCready laughed. “Pow! He just punched him!” Duncan shot back up and scrambled onto his knees, looking at MacCready and Shaun. He put up his tiny fists giggling.

                “Pow! Biff! I wanna be just like Grognak!” Duncan took a couple of swings at the air and almost knocked himself right off the bed. MacCready caught the pint-sized terror by the back of his shirt right before he toppled.

                “Hey there, killer. Easy now!” He couldn’t help but laugh. Lola always told him that laughing at Duncan would just encourage him, but he couldn’t stop himself. When he’d left Dunc with Miri all those years ago, the kid didn’t have enough energy to sit up or turn his head half the time. Duncan’s energy was a precious gift. He dropped back onto the mattress, sitting cross-legged.

                “Do we have the next one?”  Shaun was already flipping through the magazine on the table. “We can’t find out how it ends without the next one, Dunc.”

                “I think we have that one,” MacCready replied, standing up from the bed. “But you’ll have to wait until tomorrow night to start it, okay? Like your mom said, it’s bedtime.”

                He really didn’t want to rush them to sleep. He was kinda getting the hang of this whole parent thing, he thought, and he loved spending time with the boys. But he could see the light from the Commonhouse radio room through the window in their empty bedroom. A couple of people filtered in—some of her other friends had probably already gone in to say hi. He didn’t want to keep her waiting too long.

                He scooped Duncan up and hugged him tight until the kid relaxed a bit and hugged him back. Someday, he’d figure out how to read to the boys before bed without getting them both all wound up. When Duncan mellowed out, he set him down and tucked him under the heavy blanket Sturges had patched together. Duncan snuggled down stretched out his arms for another hug. Alright, alright. He squeezed Duncan again and then turned around. Shaun was already in bed, with the covers pulled up over his shoulders. He stared up at the ceiling, face blank. Shaun wasn’t _usually_ super talkative, so it wasn’t strange for him to be so quiet, but he did usually appreciate being tucked in. MacCready figured that he must like the little bit of attention. He smoothed out the blankets and crouched down next to Shaun.

                “Everything alright?”

                “It was nice to talk to Mom.”

                 Oh. MacCready brushed Shaun’s hair back from his forehead. “She’ll be home soon.”

                “I hope so.” Shaun yawned, but didn’t look over at MacCready.

                _Me too, kid,_ he thought. He rested his chin on his hands. “Well, she can’t come back _too_ soon, or we wouldn’t have any time to make her a surprise, right?”

                Shaun perked up a bit at that and nodded. He still didn’t look _happy,_ but it was a start. Of the two boys, Shaun was the one MacCready didn’t always quite get, so any little bit of progress was something. The kid was quiet, and smart, and complicated—just like his mum. He adjusted the blankets at Shaun’s chin, told the boys he loved them, and turned out the lights. He figured he would wait a minute for them to fall asleep before heading over to the radio because if those two mini detectives thought he was doing something, they would want to follow.

                He crept out of the house when he heard snoring. The Commonhouse was still all lit up, even though there was pretty much no-one in it. Cait had already talked to Lola; he’d seen her leaving the house when he’d brought Shaun and Duncan to say hi. Deacon wasn’t in town right now, which was good because he’d hog the radio. It was only Preston, Sturges, and Codsy still here. Codsworth was on his way out when MacCready entered the back room and nodded to him, almost dislodging the goofy-looking bowler hat Lola had set on his metal head.

                “And the defenses? How are we looking?” Her voice hit him like a ton of bricks yet again. It had been hard enough to keep it together with the boys in tow. Christ, he missed her.

                “Good,” Preston answered. “We had a Supermutant attack a little while back, but the defenses held, and we just finished the perimeter wall, so it should be easier to keep them out next time.”

                “Was anyone hurt?”

                “Mama Murphy took a knock to the head defending the boys, and Mary Klein nearly had her leg blown off, but your new doctor was able to save the leg and bring Mama Murphy around. They’re both doing better now.”

                “Mama Murphy got hurt?”

                “A Supermutant slipped past me. I caught him before he did any more harm.” Preston scrubbed his hands over his face.

                “Shit.”

                “I know.”                                                                                                         

                “Ah _shit_. Thank you, Preston. For everything.” He heard her sigh over the radio. This had to be killing her. Knowing Lola, she’d blame herself for not being here. She’d be worried about the boys.

                “Just come home in one piece, General.”                                                    

                “I’m trying.”

                Preston stood up from the chair he’d sat himself in and tipped his hat, noticing MacCready for the first time. MacCready nodded.

                “General, it looks like MacCready’s here to chat, so I think I’ll sign off now.”

                “Thanks, Preston. I’ll see you soon.”                                      

                Preston handed him the microphone for the radio and pat him on the shoulder as he passed. Finally, it was just him and Sturges.

                “Press this button here when you wanna talk, alright?” Sturges held up the microphone so that MacCready could see the little intercom button on the base.

                “Okay.”

                “Right-o! Now, I think I’ll rustle me up some grub. I’ve been fightin’ with that thing since noon.” He pressed the button on the radio and said “night missus!” before handing the thing off and heading out as well. Now it was just him and the radio in the light from the bare bulb overhead.

                “Mac?”                                                                                                                                

                He could feel his heart in his ribs. “Hey beautiful.”                                                                                         

                Her laugh sounded metallic through the speakers, but he could picture the face that went with it and felt a warm flush creep up the back of his neck. For a split second, he had no idea what to say. It was just so damn good to hear her voice.

                “Make it back to Sanctuary okay?”

                “Not a scratch on me.” He fidgeted with the wedding ring on his finger. “How’s Far Harbor?”

                “Hell.” She sighed again, and he could hear the exhaustion in her voice. “There’s this irradiated fog everywhere, so you can’t step two feet outside of where the condensers are without needing to pop a Rad-X every five minutes. On top of that, everyone’s fighting. No one trusts anyone. There’s a synth colony, and they don’t get along with the Children of Atom, and the Children of Atom hate the Island settlers, and the settlers hate everybody. Plus, holy shit Mac, you wouldn’t _believe_ the kinds of monsters they have here.”

                He didn’t want to think about that and, for a second, he wished she had just lied to him instead. Monsters and in-fighting were one thing, but Lola had a hard enough time taking care of herself without also having to worry about constant radiation poisoning. He hoped that Valentine was good at reminding her to flush those rads, or they’d lose her to a fucking storm.

                “Are you okay?” _Should I come get you? Are you warm? Fed? Safe?_

                “No, yeah! Yeah, I’m fine. As fine as can be, at least.” There was some static on her end, and what sounded like distant gunfire, which was about the least reassuring thing he could have heard. “Nick and I met this guy you’d like. He’s like an older version of you. Grumpy, complains a lot…”

                “Hey!”

                “He’s showing us around the island and helping keep us safe.”

                “Good, then.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “I guess.”

                “How are the boys?”

                “They’re fine. They miss you.”

                “They do, huh?”

                “Yeah.” He reached into his pocket for his cigarettes. He tried not to smoke around the boys (Lola hated it), but they should be fast asleep by now. “Shaun misses you pretty bad.”

                “I miss him too. And Duncan.” He heard the scrape of a chair as she sat down. “I didn’t think I’d be gone this long.”

                “How much longer do you think it’ll be?” He shouldn’t have asked. He didn’t want to know.

                “Shit, I don’t even know. I have to stop them from killing each other, Mac. I can’t go through that again.”

                “You don’t _have_ to do anything.”                                                                                   

                “I’m involved now. Whether I like it or not, yes I do.” He should have expected that response. When was the last time Lola had seen a mess and _hadn’t_ gone out of her way to clean it up? Once she was involved, there was no turning back. Especially if it was a favor for a friend. He puffed on the cigarette, but it didn’t calm him down the way he’d hoped.

                “Mac—”

                “Damnit, Lola, you don’t have to babysit the whole world!” He clamped his mouth shut the second the words were out because, hell, he didn’t mean to pick a fight with her. Not when she was so far away, and not when he wasn’t really mad at _her._ He could hear the hurt in her pause and felt like kicking himself.

                “No, Lola, wait. No. I’m sorry.” He cradled the microphone in both hands like it would break. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I just miss you.”

                “I miss you too.”                                                                                                                                            

                There was a couch against the wall, so he turned, tugging the cord on the microphone along with him. He laid down with his feet up on the arm of the couch and the base of the microphone on his chest.

                “This sucks, Lola.”                                                                                                                                 

                “I know.” A couple more pops in the background—more gunfire? His anxiety was through the damn roof. There was a hum on her end too, and he realized that the sound also could have been a generator kicking, if she was at a settlement (and she _would_ find a settlement to fix up if there was one). He hoped that the popping sounds were a generator and not a gun, but he didn’t have the stomach to ask.

                “Hey Mac?”

                “What?”

                “A robobrain tried to sleep with me.”

                “Wait, _what?”_ Alright. She had his attention there. He heard her laugh on the other end.

                “She did. We found this vault full of rich people who’d put their brains in robobrain bodies to keep from dying.”

                “No kidding. And one hit on you?”                                                                                                                         

                “You betcha! Gilda Broscoe! She used to be a movie star.”                                                     

                “Get out!”                                                                                                                                                      

                “I’m completely serious.” Lola laughed again. “She called me “tiger” and complemented my body.”

                “It _is_ a nice body.”                                                                                                                                       

                “Yeah, well, poor Nick nearly had a heart-attack.”                                                                                         

                “I woulda liked to have seen that.” The lightbulb overhead swayed when a breeze came through the window. He could picture her all strapped up in her armor and Maxson’s coat, her sniper slung over her shoulder, handgun at her hip, pack full of stims and scrap, blushing to her damn hairline because a robot flirted with her. Must have been priceless.

                “Not afraid I’ll run away with her?”                                                                                                                      

                “Hah!” He propped himself up on one elbow. “Yeah, right. You and the bucket of bolts? _”_  

                “I dunno, Mac. She called me ‘ _tiger.’”_

                “Fair enough.” He laid back down with his arm behind his head. “Looks like I’ll have to step-up my nickname game, huh knockout?”

                “That’s just goofy.”                                                                                                                             

                “Whatever you say, schnookums.”

                “Stop!” She was laughing so hard that he could hear her wheezing and he couldn’t help the smile that crept over his face.

                “What?”

                “If Longfellow wakes up, he’ll chew us _both_ out for the next century.”

                “Where are you all staying tonight?” He didn’t want to ask but he couldn’t stop himself. They had to be somewhere near a settlement or hold for her to have a radio. He hoped. Unless, that is, she found some sketchy station in the middle of nowhere and decided to bunker down there (which would be just like her). He really hoped the next words out of her mouth were _somewhere safe._

                “Longfellow’s island. We are building it up as a settlement so Small Bertha and Tony have somewhere to live.”

                “Who are Small Bertha and Tony?”

                “A couple of kids I found on the docks.” _Figures._ “I think we’re going to make this our main base on Far Harbor. That or Dalton farm.”

                “For the Minutemen?”

                “More resources never hurts, Mac.”

                He could picture the stubborn set of her lips and almost laughed. Just like her to help a friend find one missing teenager, and get sucked into a million different building projects and a civil war on a hostile island. If that wasn’t simply the most “Lola” thing he’d ever heard in his life.

                “You’re nuts, you know that?”

                “I knew you’d say that.”

                “Are you safe?” He closed his eyes and hoped that her answer was “absolutely.”

                “Reasonably.” Better than nothing. “We just set up the perimeter wall, the gardens, the water pump, and some community housing for while we’re working on more permanent homes.”

                “Where are you right now?”

                “The shed. It was the only place we could set up the radio. For now.”

                “Do you have turrets yet?”

                “No, but we have enough people for guard shifts.”

                “Where’s Valentine?”                                                                                   

                “Waiting in the main lodge with Longfellow. The three of us are using that as a base.”

                “Armed?”

                “Always.”

                He sat up again and looked down at the microphone. It was a big oblong one with a dent on the top, kinda like a smaller version of the one Mags used to have down at the Rail. There was a little bit of rust on the part you talk into, but it looked like Sturges had tried to scrub it clean. He ran his thumb over the dent and then pressed the button back down.

                “I love you, Lola.”

                “I love you too.”

                “Whatever you have to do, just make sure you get yourself back here in one piece, alright?”

                “I’ll try.”

                That was the best he could hope for. He stood up to set the microphone down, but the speakers whispered “G’night, RJ.”

                Shit. He exhaled through his nose.

                “Goodnight, Lola.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> If you want to check out my Tumblr, it can be found here: http://starlightwrites.tumblr.com/
> 
> Thanks again! <3


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